


Soul Vision

by Naturestar44



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Alternating, RATED MATURE FOR: emotional and physical abuse, Seungchan, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, anticipate that, idk how involved sunwoo and Eric will be but probably just a few cameos, if this looks familiar it's cuz I started this on wattpad, more ships will be added in the future, probably a lot of angst, seungmin and jeongin are brothers, slow and sporadic updates, soul vision
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naturestar44/pseuds/Naturestar44
Summary: Whenever your soulmate cries, you see the world in shades of their eye color, but the rest of the time your vision is completely normal.Chan hasn't seen the world in shades of brown in five years, and he constantly worries about what that means, until one day the world goes brown and doesn't go back.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Kim Seungmin
Comments: 36
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> please note this will include physical and emotional abuse specifically in a family setting, read at your own risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan's story

Chan always grew up looking forward to the day he would meet his soulmate. Who would it be? What are they like? Do they like strawberry ice cream too? These questions circled his mind for years after his parents first gave him the soulmate talk.

Chan still remembers that day perfectly. He’s pretty sure it’s because he thinks about it nearly every day. 

It was a rainy Tuesday, and he had woken up five minutes before his alarm… or well… maybe he didn’t remember it  _ that _ perfectly. Actually he had no idea what day of the week it was, whether he went to school that day or not, what he had eaten for breakfast, or even what season it was. It was raining though. That he remembered.

It had been pouring, the kind of storm where buckets fell and fell and the wind blew the rain into waves that gusted across streets and had little Channie staring in awe out the window. His tiny fingers steaming up the windows, his nose leaving mist on the glass as he smushed his face against it.

But the rain wasn’t the important part. It was the way that the world seemed to slowly turn brown before his very eyes. The way it slipped down like the rain, taking over his vision as the greens and blues faded away from the world. He had been confused, but in his youthful innocence he was not scared.

When his mother called him down for dinner, he had asked her why she made mashed poop instead of potatoes for dinner. His father had scolded him for being rude, but his mother seemed to understand what had happened.

“Is the world brown, Channie?” she had asked, and sighed when Chan nodded.

They had abandoned their dinner in favor of a talk about soulmates. The specifics, Chan didn’t remember aside from a few phrases.

“You remember how we told you about love?”

“Yes, appa.”

“Well that love is extra special for soulmates. Soulmates are like two halves of a whole… like a left shoe to a right. They need each other and complete each other. Your soulmate will understand you even more than your eomma and appa do.”

“When your soulmate cries, your world turns the color of their eyes. It goes away when they stop crying.”

“But appa, why?”

“No one knows son, but now you won’t be confused or alarmed when things go brown… just don’t call your mother’s cooking ‘poop’ again, okay?”

방찬

After that day, Chan remembers the world turning brown many times: when he woke up from a nightmare, when he was giving a presentation for show-and-tell, when he was eating lunch with his friends, when his mother kissed him goodnight, when he learned how to ride a skateboard, when he had his eleventh birthday party… 

Each time Chan wished he knew why his soulmate was crying. People cry for many reasons, not just when they’re sad. How could he know when his soulmate was crying from sadness? Or joy? Or just because he had been hit in the face with a basketball?

And when Channie cried, he couldn’t help but think of his soulmate. He was turning someone else’s world brown with every diamond tear that fell from his chestnut eyes. It was always thoughts of his soulmate that calmed him down the quickest, that had him drying his tears so that his soulmate could see the pretty colors of the world again. The times he cried from laughing too hard, well there was little he could do about that. He just hoped he didn’t worry his soulmate too much when it happened.

방찬

Despite obsessing over his soulmate, Channie only saw soulmates find each other once in his life. It was when he was thirteen, having just landed in the Incheon airport with his family. They were moving to South Korea, to the delight of Chan’s younger siblings but the silent dread of Chan. He didn’t want to go to a new place, he didn’t want to leave his friends. It was the cause of many fights between him and his parents, but in the end Chan couldn’t do anything about it - they were moving whether Chan wanted to or not.

But all that anger and disappointment faded away when Chan passed through the gate of the airport. His eyes had fallen on a young woman, light pink hair falling to her waist, standing behind a large suitcase. Her feet faced inwards and her hands grasped at her purse strap in a universal sign of uncomfortableness. Her hesitance could be felt even yards away, from where Chan stood under a terminal sign. Soon though, her eyes had widened in shock and then crinkled in joy. Her legs had straightened, her hands leaving her purse strap in favor of latching onto the arms of another young woman who had just arrived.

Chan couldn’t remember how the second woman had appeared, whether she was waiting there the whole time or if she had just arrived, but her brown hair was askew, her bright yellow sunglasses were halfway off the top of her head, and her light-wash jeans stood out against the suits and dresses of everyone else. No matter how she appeared, it was the way she embraced the first woman that stuck with Chan. It was the way they had stood there, holding each other forever and resting their heads against each other that caught 13-year-old Chan’s attention.

He had tugged on his mother’s sleeve, pointing at the two girls and asking why they weren’t letting each other go. His mother had taken one look and turned back around to smile at Chan.

“They’re soulmates Channie, it looks like they’ve just found each other. Come on, let’s not bother them by staring, I’m sure they have a lot to learn about each other.”

“Soulmates?” Chan had asked, “but I thought soulmates get married…”

That was also the day Chan had learned that it was okay for two girls or two boys to love each other romantically. (It was two years later that Chan learned that maybe he liked boys too.)

방찬

That was it; that was the one time Chan witnessed the soulmate phenomenon in person. Of course his parents were soulmates, and so were the parents of his friends. But it wasn’t the same, with parents it seemed like a tale of ages ago. It didn’t connect to Chan’s here and now. 

So he spent his days wondering about his soulmate, wondering who it was and if they liked hugs when they cried. But most importantly, he wondered when he would meet them. It was something he clung to, that any day could be the day he met his soulmate. It gave him purpose on his bad days, a reason to get up even when he really didn’t want to (really was his entire secondary school career even necessary because he’s pretty sure he forgot 90% of the information they tried to drill into his brain in just a few short weeks after graduation).

Chan’s hope to meet his soulmate grew over the years; every day brought him one day closer to meeting his soulmate. But every year brought less and less times where his vision turned brown. He had worried incessantly once he’d noticed the change. Of course it was natural that people cry less as they grow up; little kids are prone to cry at just about anything after all. But when Chan started realizing he couldn’t even remember the last time his world turned brown when he was sure that  _ he  _ cried, at the very least, once a month… that was when the fear crept in.

Was his soulmate just not a big crier? It was possible. Surely if there were people that still cried easily in class, there were also people who were just the opposite. But that only calmed him for a year or two until the anxiety crept back in. It simply wasn’t natural, he decided. Something must be wrong.

방찬

He had asked his parents about it once, when he was 17. They were just as concerned as he was - crying is natural, no matter how little someone cried, there was no way that Chan’s soulmate could go a year and a half without crying (Chan had begun marking the days his soulmate cried in a little notebook when he realized what was happening, so that he would know for sure how infrequently his soulmate shed tears).

But a week after, Chan had texted his parents in joy, telling them that the world was brown once again. His parents had stopped worrying after that; they decided that Chan’s soulmate must just be crying late at night, when Chan was asleep. Perhaps his soulmate lived in another timezone, one in which it was day during Chan’s night. They hooked on to this reasoning, and Chan let them.

It was Chan alone that remained scared for his soulmate. It was Chan alone that opened that little tear tracker every day, to check the last date written down as if it would change miraculously. It was Chan alone that knew that his soulmate had not cried a single time since - not once in the past 5 years. And it was Chan alone who cried more and more as the years passed, as if in some twisted way Chan could cry on behalf of his soulmate. 

방찬

It was Chan alone who slowly fell into hopeless fear surrounding his soulmate, not knowing if they were dead, broken inside, or just perfectly okay. It was Chan alone who started becoming less and less okay, until thoughts of his soulmate no longer brought him hope or joy, just an empty sense of dread and a small pull in his gut that he chose to ignore.

It was Chan alone who had to move on, and Chan alone who pretended that he did. But somewhere deep inside himself were those memories of a world painted in shades of brown and that constant yearning for something he no longer looked for.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changbin & Chan

“... Chan”

“Chan.”

“Chan!”

“CHAN!”

Chan’s head shot up, eyes blinking furiously to refocus on the boy in front of him. Chanbin was standing in front of the couch, headphones dangling from his fingers and an exasperated look on his face. 

“Sorry what?” Chan asked, pulling his mind back to the present as quickly as he could. 

Changbin sighed, “hyung, you did it again. I called your name like twenty times, I even dropped the honorifics and you _still_ didn’t hear me… Where do you keep going off to huh?”

Chan grimaced apologetically, “I’m sorry Binnie, you know I have trouble focusing sometimes.”

“Yeah but you’ve never been this bad before, hyung,” Changbin said gently, “You’re zoning out several times a day now! It’s okay when it’s with me, I know how you get. But what about when your classes start next week? This is your last year, you can’t tune the whole thing out.”

Chan groaned and rubbed his face in his hands. He was well aware of how bad he had gotten over the summer. Changbin may be one of the few who knew about his focusing problem, but Chan had never told him why he had that problem. Changbin wouldn’t understand, or worse, he would worry even _more_ for Chan. Chan refused to let that happen; Changbin already took care of him enough these days (Changbin’s his dongsaeng! Chan should be taking care of _him_!). 

Chan could feel his thoughts trying to pull him back into his head. He struggled against them, trying to stay in the present if only for Changbin’s sake. His friend deserved that much at least. Unfortunately, Chan was too familiar with this battle - his mind slipped too easily behind a veil, retreating to a plane of existence separate from the outside world. It got worse with his anxiety, but Changbin was right: it had never been this bad before.

Chan breathed out, a loud huff paired with a slight shaking of his shoulders to try to bring himself back into focus. Changbin was talking with him; it was important that he respond.

“What’s going on hyung?” Changbin whispered, setting his headphones on the side table and settling onto the couch next to Chan. His body leaned against the older boy, not much to others, but for Changbin it was a silent message of comfort and support. Chan patted Changbin’s knee in thanks.

“I’m fine Binnie,” Chan sighed, “I’m just tired these days, is all.”

They both knew it was a lie. Chan never got enough sleep; he had battled with insomnia for years. That was nothing new; it couldn’t account for Chan’s recent degeneration. But Changbin also knew when Chan wasn’t ready to talk. It was one of the things Chan appreciated the most about his friend.

Even from their first meeting, Changbin had always been able to read Chan. He may not be able to read Chan’s mind, but he always knew what the older needed. It was a blessing and a relief, that sometimes Chan didn’t even need to say a word to communicate with Changbin. 

“Okay hyung,” Changbin said, patting Chan’s back one last time before getting up, “I’ll leave you alone then. Just know I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

“Thank you, Binnie,” Chan muttered, and he watched the younger as he left the room, his eyes lingering on the empty space Changbin left in the doorway. 

방찬

Chan sank back into the couch cushions. His fingers rubbed against the worn fabric, making a few passes before relaxing again. He stared at the wall in front of him, his eyes losing focus once again, the fuzziness pulling him backwards.

The truth was that Chan had always had trouble focusing. He just liked to withdraw inside himself sometimes. That didn’t mean he was any less playful, energetic, or happy than his friends. It just meant that sometimes he was whisked away, his thoughts floating in a timeless vat of white noise in the back of his brain. 

After reading a bit about it, Chan discovered that it was a coping mechanism. He retreated to a safespace mentally in order to set aside his worries for a little bit. So it was understandable that Chan would struggle to remove himself from the grasping vines of his mind when he was particularly stressed. Around exams, for example, Chan spent nearly every waking minute operating mechanically, instinctively, a curtain between himself and the world. His reactions would be delayed; words came out of his mouth but he could never recall what they were or when he came up with them. 

During those weeks, Changbin was always extra sensitive with him. Even though the younger was also preparing for his exams, he took the time to remind Chan to take care of himself. A few times Changbin even had to go as far as dragging Chan to the dining hall or physically tucking him into bed. Somehow Chan always managed to do well on his exams, some combination of luck and his efforts of paying attention and studying throughout his courses. 

Chan was deeply grateful for Changbin. It was obvious to him that without Changbin, he would have accidentally wasted himself away by now. 

Chan let his mind drift, sifting past thoughts and memories too quickly to fully intake. By the time he had settled into one semi-coherent train of thought, he had no grasp on how long he’d been on the same train of thought or how he got there. Nevertheless, he drifted back several hours to what happened that morning.

방찬

_Chimes jangled as Changbin opened the door to the coffee shop. The younger turned around as he walked in, paying no mind to his surroundings as he talked with Chan. _

_“Hyung why are we here again?” Changbin asked as Chan quickly grabbed the younger’s arm._

_Chan laughed, passing through the doorway and craning his head to see past Changbin, making sure the younger wouldn’t walk into anyone._

_“Why not?” he said simply, steering Changbin around a girl standing in their path, her fingers flying over her phone as she smacked her gum loudly._

_Changbin furrowed his brow as Chan guided him through the coffee shop, unsatisfied with his answer._

_“C’mon,” Chan patted Changbin’s shoulder, gesturing toward the counter, “pick something, I’m paying for you.”_

_“_ You _are paying for_ me _,” Changbin repeated slowly, his eyes wide as his hand pointed to Chan and back to himself._

_“Yes! Yes,” Chan said, “I am paying for you. Now choose… before I take my money back.”_

_Changbin took action at those words, hastily ordering two hot chocolates and three warm cinnamon rolls. The employee smiled kindly, taking their order and carefully stacking three cinnamon rolls on a tray. Changbin grabbed the drinks as the employee slid them across the counter, watching Chan hand over his credit card with wide eyes._

_“You’re really paying for me,” Changbin said, amazed._

_“Hey!” Chan cried as he slipped his wallet back into his pocket, “I can be a good hyung!”_

_Changbin laughed, his voice teasing as they sat down at a nearby table, “whatever you say hyung.”_

_Chan sniffed in offense, crossing his arms and raising his chin in a perfect picture of dignified annoyance… until his own laughter ruined his facade._

_“Yeah I know this is unusual-”_

_“Unusual? More like unheard of,” Changbin quipped, and Chan silenced him with a glare._

_“As I was saying, I know this is_ unusual _,” Chan repeated, “but I just wanted to do something for you.”_

_Changbin cocked an eyebrow, “do something for me? Why? You didn’t break anything did you?”_

_“No!” Chan huffed, “can’t I just do something nice for my friend?”_

_Changbin sat back in his chair with a knowing look, “no.”_

_Chan rolled his eyes, and Changbin crossed his arms, waiting for the real explanation. Chan looked down after a second, his shoulders hunching slightly in a way that told Changbin that the older was embarrassed about whatever he was about to say._

_“It’s just,” Chan began, his voice growing quieter and less confident as he continued, “you always do so much for me. And, I don’t know… I guess I don’t really know where I’d be if you didn’t take care of me half the time… so, uh… thank you.”_

_Chan looked up, shyly meeting Changbin’s eyes._

_Changbin paused, then sighed and offered Chan one of the cinnamon rolls, waving it in the air when Chan failed to react._

_“Take the cinnamon roll hyung,” the younger said._

_Chan accepted the gift with a confused ‘thanks,’ and Changbin sighed again._

_“Do you know why I ordered two cups of hot cocoa, hyung?” Changbin asked, and Chan shook his head no._

_“Because,” Changbin slid a cup across the table, “one of these is yours. You don’t need any more coffee hyung, goodness knows what that stuff’s done to you already. You probably feel like you need caffeine, but what you_ really _need is to sleep.”_

_“But I know sleep doesn’t come easy to you, which is why I also got you two cinnamon rolls. Because if you can’t sleep, at least you can put yourself into a sugar comma.”_

_Changbin pushed the last two cinnamon rolls over to Chan, “actually just take all three, I don’t need any. Now, if I wasn’t here, would you have bought yourself any of this?”_

_“No,” Chan replied._

_“Exactly,” Changbin nodded, “if I wasn’t here, you wouldn’t even be in this coffee shop. But if you were, you would’ve ordered some dreadful caffeinated concoction that would fry your brain even worse than your hair from freshman year.”_

_“If I wasn’t here, you wouldn’t have bought anything. You wouldn’t have taken care of yourself… but_ since _I’m here, I will make_ sure _you survive long enough to cry yourself to public humiliation at my graduation, my marriage, my retirement, heck, even my funeral. There’s no way I’m not making you suffer through life with me, because if I have to put up with the world, so do you.”_

_“And no going on about this ‘taking care of you’ sap. I’m your friend. It’s my job description, but more than that, I do it because I want to. I’m not over here sacrificing a million dollars for you, I’m just trying to keep your sanity together for a few more years. Don’t go thanking me for doing something I want to do. Besides, who else is gonna take care of you until you meet your soulmate huh?”_

방찬

And that was it, that was why Chan had been spacing out for the rest of the day. Not because Changbin had given a quality friendship speech, but because of his last sentence. 

“Your soulmate.”

The words were meant to make Chan smile, but instead he was overcome with worry. Chan had hoped he could learn to put his soulmate to the back of his mind over time. He hadn’t seen brown in five years, shouldn’t it get easier to forget as the days passed? 

But for some reason, Chan found it harder and harder to ignore. He could feel an ever-growing instinct these days, a pulling in his chest when he thought about his soulmate that he could not ignore. It drove his thoughts back to his soulmate several times a day, and once he started thinking about it, it was hard to stop.

Chan would lose himself in a flurry of unanswered questions, exaggerated scenarios, and always a sense of overwhelming confusion, anxiety, and loneliness. It was causing his frequent space-outs. He’d gotten away with it for now because it was summer, but soon his last semester of college would start - next week in fact. And he’d have to find a way to wrestle himself out of his mind long enough to focus in his classes. And even more importantly, he couldn’t let it affect his capstone project.

Every college senior has a capstone project, one designed based on their major and personal interests. Since Chan was majoring in music production, he planned to produce an entire album of songs by the end of the year. It was something his mentor had encouraged him on, and something he’d been told to plan for over the summer. But Chan was too distracted over his soulmate to figure out what kind of message, theme, or style he wanted his album to be. So far, he was ignoring it as best he could, hoping inspiration would simply jump out at him on some miraculous day.

In the meantime, Chan drifted back to his soulmate again. What were they doing, that they never cried? Where were they, why did Chan’s chest hurt whenever he thought of them? Were they… were they dead?

Chan shook his head. He couldn’t let himself sink to that level of hopelessness. He wouldn’t let himself believe his soulmate was dead. But it was hard sometimes, to still have faith in his soulmate when all his friends would so casually mention their ‘soul vision’ as they called it these days. They didn’t have to worry about their soulmates because their soulmates cried. Changbin’s soulmate cried so often that Changbin started counting when he _didn’t_ have soul vision instead of when he did.

Soul vision was a common topic among his friends; if they weren’t experiencing it then they were talking about when they did. Their favorite pastime was arguing about which coffee drink was closest to the color of their soul vision, since they were all hooked on coffee like it was drugs. They loved talking about it because it reminded them that there was someone out there for them - it gave them hope. Chan tried his best to laugh along with them, to smile for their sakes. He didn’t want to bring anyone down. When they told stories, he could only talk about his soul visions when he was young. Somehow no one had noticed the discrepancy yet, but Chan knew it was only a matter of time that one of his friends would want to have a serious conversation about soulmates with Chan… and Chan would be forced to come clean.

His friends would be empathetic, Chan was sure. He didn’t put up with insensitive people. But he couldn’t stand the sympathetic looks they would give him; he knew they’d stop talking about soul visions around him too, and he didn’t want to be the reason that they couldn’t talk freely about it. He didn’t want to burden his friends, so he chose to stay silent. There were several times Chan knew Changbin had sensed something amiss, but Chan made sure that Changbin never came close to the truth.

He wanted to tell Changbin, he really did. Even though he was younger, Changbin had always had such a reliable air about him; Chan felt that he could confide in him about anything. Sometimes Chan wanted to lay his worries out to Changbin just for the sake of someone else knowing, just so that someone else could help hold his troubles with him. Or even just to worry with him, or let him worry visibly in their presence. 

Chan used to think anxiety was just anxiety, no matter what it was about. But he discovered that not being able to share his anxieties or let himself steep in them in the presence of others was a heavier burden than he ever could have imagined. It wasn’t just that he had to force himself to smile when it pained him, but that the worries would pile up inside of him until they stacked up his throat, over his tongue, and tried to push themselves out of his lips, clamouring to be heard and soothed by another. But Chan shut his mouth against them, locking them up inside of himself and battling himself silently, every. single. day. 

Chan could feel it wearing him through these days. It was harder and harder to brush it off, change the topic, and lie to his friends. Changbin knew something bigger was bothering him, and though he never pushed it with the older, Chan felt like he deserved to know. He felt like he was cheating their friendship by keeping it bottled up. 

Chan knew that if he kept sinking into his anxieties about his soulmate, he would lose touch with his friends and classes this year. He promised himself that if he couldn’t pick himself back up after the first week, he would tell Changbin. Changbin always knew how to help Chan, but Chan was pretty sure Changbin didn’t have any secret answers to soulmates who didn’t cry. 

방찬

Chan sighed, his eyes phasing back to the miniscule bumps on the wall. All these things he didn’t want to think about… he wished in that moment they would go away. He wished that his vision would go brown right then, so that he could stop worrying.

Instead, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and Chan jumped in surprise. He took it out, flipping it over to see a text from one of his other friends, Felix.

→ _Almost at the arcade, cant wait to see u again cuz_

Chan’s eyes widened. He completely forgot he was supposed to meet Felix at the arcade today. He checked the time, 4:05pm.

Fudge. He was gonna be so late. He bolted off the couch, hurrying to snatch his leather jacket off of his bed. He shoved his feet into his shoes, grabbing his keys and feeling entirely overwhelmed with his own stupidity.

“Changbin I’m out to hang with Felix, lock the door behind me!” he yelled, and he was out the door before he could hear a reply.

“Fudge, fudge, fudge,” he chanted quietly to himself, shoes pounding down the staircase because the stupid elevator was broken again this week and he didn’t want to keep Felix waiting. How did he forget? 

Today was Felix’s first day back from Australia. He went home over the summer to spend time with his family; they’d spent hours texting each other but somehow, after the days of anticipating Felix’s smile in person, he totally blanked. Of course, only Chan would get distracted by a soulmate that may not even exist anymore.

Once on the street, Chan whipped out his phone again to text Felix.

← _I’m gonna be a few minutes late, but I can’t wait to see you too!_

His fingers fumbled over the keys and he bumped into about twelve people on the sidewalk, bowing profusely in apology, but at least he was on his way. 

방찬

One block from the arcade and Chan was already calming down. Felix had texted back a reassurance and said he’d buy their coins while he waited. Already Chan was sinking back into his thoughts, staring at the clouds fading past the buildings far above him. The sky was the kind of washed out, overexposed light blue that made Chan tired just looking at it. 

He was so busy staring at the sky that he didn’t notice the figure of a boy weaving in between people on the sidewalk, running much quicker than was safe in the city.

“Oof,” Chan grunted, a body slamming into his almost as quickly as a hand grabbed his shoulder to steady him again. The same hand patted his back twice, and a voice hastily spit out an apology before Chan was left alone again.

He stood there in confusion, turning around to see a boy with hair and clothes askew, dashing across the street with no concern for traffic passing by. He shook his head, really he’s got to stop zoning out on the sidewalk. He didn’t even see that boy coming! He could practically hear Changbin nagging him about safety.

“ _One day you’re gonna get run over, and I’m not gonna be there to pull you back and slap the stupidity out of you.”_

He grinned, yeah that sounded like Changbin. 

A shoulder brushed his as a woman hurried past him, hands clutching her purse tightly, and Chan snapped back to the present. Right. Felix. The arcade. He’d better get walking again. Don’t want to be extra late.

Chan shook his head and started walking again, one more block and he’d be squished in a Felix-hug, chattering happily in English, playing games, and - most importantly - _wouldn’t_ be worrying about his soulmate. He couldn’t wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aussie arcade time

“Oh man they still have Pacman?! C’mon we _totally_ have to play it for old times’ sake!”

Chan looked up from the racing game he’d just finished (lost, but that’s classified information) to see Felix bounding over to the back corner of the arcade, beckoning behind him. Chan rolled his eyes and followed Felix with a grin. 

Sure enough, there was a slightly bruised, mostly dusty Pacman game in the corner of the arcade. The cobwebs seemed to divert the attention of most people, but somehow they’d sent up a flare on Felix’s radar. Felix always had a knack for finding those little things that you never put much thought into, usually overlooking (or forgetting), until Felix brought it to your attention with his look of childlike wonder. Felix’s enthusiasm was contagious, and his sparkling eyes usually passed on the light to the people around him. It was something that Chan had noticed from the first few days of befriending the boy, something he hadn’t seen in anyone else. 

Felix was someone you’d forever be grateful for having met. Sometimes you don’t understand how he can smile so easily, but you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to keep that smile on his face because it made your heart just a little bit lighter. But if anyone asked, Chan would just say that Felix was three-year-old in the body of a teen (because getting sappy over your friend is embarrassing when you have other friends that would never let you live it down… namely Changbin, who already has too much blackmail on Chan and doesn’t need more). 

“I haven’t played Pacman in years!” Felix laughed, shaking Chan’s shoulder in excitement and shoving a coin into the machine. _Plink._ Felix clapped as the game booted up and the familiar sounds of Pacman were coaxed out of slumber.

Chan laughed at Felix’s bright eyes, “c’mon Lix, don’t get too excited over this old game. Everyone’s gonna think we’re weird.”

Felix snorted, “Pretty sure they labelled us as weirdos the second we started shouting English in our Aussie accents, mate. There’s no saving our arcade reputations now.”

Chan cringed as Felix purposefully spoke in the heaviest accent he could, slapping the boy’s arm when he grinned in faux-innocence afterwards. He couldn’t help but giggle at how stupid Felix sounded.

“You’ve got a point there,” Chan admitted, “We should just give ‘em a show then.”

“Definitely,” Felix’s eyes sparked in challenge. 

They laughed as Felix turned back to the Pacman game.

_Welcome to Pac•Man_

_Start_

_[Start]_

**[Start]**

_Get Ready!_

_*beep*_

Felix wrapped his hand around the joystick, navigating the blinking yellow Pacman on the screen as he collected coins and cherries.

_Left, right, left… right, up, left, down, left, up._

Felix shrieked a little when a ghost came close to getting him, and Chan laughed harder behind him. Felix frantically shoved the joystick around in it socket until he successfully escaped the imminent danger. Chan was still laughing at the way he’d shrieked in fear, and Felix glared at him.

“I forgot how nerve-wracking this game is,” he pouted. Chan patted his shoulder in comfort.

“You haven’t played it for years Lix, I’m sure you’re gonna be a bit rusty.”

Felix relaxed a little, turning back to the game to go for a cherry and take revenge on the ghost that tried to kill him.

“Besides…” Chan smiled innocently, “it takes a really _really_ brave soul to not scream in fear when playing Pacman.”

Felix whipped around, his eyes widened in betrayal before his face settled into a deep pout.

“Shut up!” he cried, cheeks reddening in embarrassment, “it was a one-time thing! Heat of the moment!”

“Uh-huh,” Chan hummed sarcastically, “heat of the moment.”

_*beep beep*_

_Game Over_

Felix turned back to the screen to find that the cherry had lost its effects and Pacman had been killed while Chan had distracted him.

“Chris!” Felix yelled, “I lost! It’s all your fault!”

Chan bent over in laughter, weakly raising his arms to defend himself when Felix started shoving him in anger.

“If you didn’t distract me I wouldn’t have lost!” Felix whined, “you’re so annoying.”

“It’s not my fault you screamed,” Chan defended, “who even screams when playing Pacman! You’re like a little baby, Lix.”

Felix frowned, “I am _not!_ You take that back, I’m just invested in the game! I bet it hasn’t gotten this appreciated in years, I’m doing it a favor!”

“Baby Lixxie,” Chan cooed, reaching up to pinch the younger boy’s cheeks, “Wittle Baby Wixxie didn’t wanna hurt Mr. Pacman’s feelings, awwww.”

“Chris!” Felix shrieked, slapping his hands away, “what the heck, stop!”

Chan laughed so hard he had to sit down on the floor. Felix’s face was beet red. Too. Dang. Perfect. Only Felix. Only Felix would scream while playing Pacman.

“I can’t believe you,” Chan wheezed.

Felix pouted, crossing his arms sullenly, “whatever. I don’t wanna play Pacman anymore.”

…

“Let’s go play that game!” Felix shouted, going from grumpy to excited so quick Chan got whiplash. He looked to see what game Felix was pointing at. It was a two-person shooter game, with two fake guns hanging beside it.

Felix grabbed Chan’s arm and yanked him up, dragging him over to the game.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Chan questioned, “if you screamed at Pacman, I’m not sure little Lixxie can handle a real gun.”

“Shut. _Up._ Chris.”

Chan laughed, Felix was just too easy to tease. 

The rest of the evening went on like that, a blur of bright memories lighting up the darkening sky outside. Eventually their stomach’s cries were too loud to ignore, and they left the arcade in favor of a cheap but large meal that was enough to satisfy two broke college kids.

방찬

Chan smiled. The day had been long, but his time with Felix had rescued the day from slipping into forgotten memories. He was tired now, but the good kind, the kind that came from too many good memories packed into a day. It was the kind that shut his brain off, no energy left to fuel thoughts of any kind except an overwhelming urge to bury his face into his pillow and rub his cheek against it like a cat.

It was a good day.

It was a good day.

No worrying about his soulmate.

It was a good day.

It was a good day.

It was a…

a good day.

Good…

A good…

Good..

Day.

**_*sigh*_ **

And he fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our first look into Seungmin's perspective

“Oof,” a boy grunted as Seungmin knocked into him. Seungmin righted the boy and spit out an apology but didn’t stop. He was running down the sidewalk, on his way to pick up Jeongin, and he was _so_ late. Super late, by like two hours.

Jeongin was probably freaking out. Seungmin’s imagination flew, creating several scenarios of an anxious Jeongin. Seungmin cursed under his breath. He had no time to stop and check on whoever he ran into. Instead he dashed across the street, narrowly dodging traffic.

As he wove between pedestrians on the way to Jeongin’s school, he flashed back to the reason he’d been late to begin with.

승민

Seungmin closed the front door quietly, careful not to draw attention to himself in case his parents were home. At this point being quiet was first instinct. Bringing attention to himself never ended well with _his_ family.

“So you’re finally back,” a voice called sarcastically from the living room. Seungmin winced and braced himself. There was no escaping this now.

“Yes mother,” he replied, trying his best to keep a cool, unaffected tone. Nonetheless, a small tremor could be heard in his voice. His mother scoffed.

“Still a scared little boy,” she commented in disgust. Seungmin heard her get up from what he assumed was the couch. She was always on the couch. It was her spy’s nest. Her throne. Nothing good ever came of her leaving that couch.

The sound of her approaching footsteps had Seungmin steeling his nerves. Just get through it, just stay quiet, he told himself. It’s easier that way.

“What?” his mother mocked, “nothing to say? And I thought you had _such_ a way with words. You’re just _weak_. Useless. Unwanted.”

Just endure it. Just stay quiet.

“Where were you,” his mother asked, words striking like knives.

Silence.

“Answer me when I ask you a question,” she spat and slapped his cheek. Yet Seungmin stays still. His face smarted but he knew better than to react, to show weakness.

“I was in class mother,” Seungmin gritted.

“Is that attitude?” his mother hissed. “What have I said about attitude in this house?”

Silence.

“Speak!”

“I’m sorry mother,” Seungmin bowed, his heart racing but his face emotionless, “I’ll do better, mother.”

“Do better,” she jeered, “do better. Ha. You’re worthless, spineless. Not worth my time or my money.”

Seungmin’s breath hitched at the underlying threat. No. She couldn’t kick him out. Not yet, not without Jeongin. He had to protect Jeongin.

“Mother-”

“Shut up,” she snapped, “don’t interrupt me! Can you do nothing correctly?”

Seungmin bowed wordlessly.

“A bow,” his mother mocked, “a bow. You think bowing can fix everything. Foolish boy. I don’t tolerate foolishness.”

Seungmin breathed slowly. In and out. In and out. The air grew thick with his emotions, his vision going fuzzy the way it did whenever he was upset. All he could see was his mother’s face, staring at him in disdain. Belittling him. Her breath reeked, like it always did. 

“Wait till your father gets home. I won’t let this disobedience go unpunished any longer. We’ve been too lenient lately.”

Say nothing, say nothing, say nothing, saynothingsaynothingsaynothing.

Blink slowly.

“Go to your room,” his mother ordered.

Quiet steps, a hand trembling against the railing as he climbed the stairs. It was better this way, bending, secluding himself. When they locked him in, it meant no food or water, no seeing Jeongin. But it also meant solitude. Safety. They couldn’t touch him. 

_Click._

He shivered at the sound of the lock. It’s okay. Just until Father gets home. Just until Father gets home.

Breathe.

승민

Seungmin rubbed his arm subconsciously. He winced as his fingers found the bruises. His legs burned from running but he kept going. The school was only three blocks away. 

It was worse this time. Maybe because it had been so long. A week. One would think it would have been a blissful week, but he never knew when the shoe would drop. He lived in constant fear, paranoia. 

It was worse this time. His father had forgone the belt. The belt stung, but his knuckles dug deep like nothing else. It hurt. It always hurt. His back and his arms this time. At least he could hide it this time. A long-sleeved shirt to keep Jeongin from worrying.

It was hard to lie to him when he couldn’t hide them. There was only so much that clumsiness could cover. One day he’ll have to come clean, but he would keep Jeongin innocent as long as possible. The younger may know about the words, the neglect. But he should never know about the physical abuse. It would break him. And Seungmin had spent too much to keep him intact.

“Hyung!” Jeongin’s voice washed over him, cleansing his brain of the bad thoughts. Seungmin took a breath, rearranging himself. He put on a smile. Always keep him happy, he doesn’t deserve your pain.

“Innie I’m so sorry I’m late. I totally forgot I offered to tutor a friend today.”

“Tutor? You? In what?” Jeongin laughed. It was a well-known fact that the only subjects Seungmin was good at were writing and literature. 

Seungmin laughed and ruffled Jeongin’s hair as the younger bounced up to him happily. He gripped his backpack with both hands, a habit he’d picked up from the elder. Seungmin smiled quietly, fondly. His eyes were shining with happiness. Like they should be… not from tears… like… like no one anymore…

Seungmin tore himself from his thoughts. He shouldn’t be thinking like this when Jeongin was around.

“Okay you got me. _I_ was the one being tutored,” Seungmin admitted, the lie slipping off his tongue. It was getting easier these days, easier to lie to him. It was almost second nature by now. “But you’re okay? You didn’t worry too much?”

“No I spent some time with Eric and Sunwoo hyungs! And as for the tutoring,” Jeongin giggled, “nothing gets past me.”

“Ah,” Seungmin smiled, “I’m glad you weren’t waiting alone.”

His gaze turned bittersweet as he wrapped his arm around Jeongin’s shoulder. He winced in pain. The irony of the pure white sleeve covering the black and blue of his skin was not lost on him.

“Nothing gets past you, Innie.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungmin's story

Seungmin couldn’t say if he dreaded or anticipated the day he would meet his soulmate. Maybe he anticipated it with dread, maybe he dreaded anticipating it… he wasn’t sure. He just knew it had always been like that, a mess of emotions so twisted in his heart that it hurt less to just push it aside and ignore it. He figured if he ever really wanted to dive into that mess and pick it apart, he would start with his parents.

His parents weren’t like the ones in the books he read. No warm words and fuzzy feelings. If anything, they were more like the stepmother from Cinderella. Cold, distant, and untouchable.

If he were a psychologist, he would attribute his crippling social anxiety and deep-seated mistrust of others to the neglect of his parents. But he’s not. He’s a writer. So instead he strings scenes of his life together until they shape a story.

승민

Two years old and his first memory is of waking up to his father’s yells in the middle of the night. The shadows hung huge on the walls, towering over him as he cowered in his sheets. The slurring of what he would later realize was a drunken rage pierced through the walls. It fed the shadows more and more until they grew into monsters, arms reaching for his soul.

“Get away from me! Get back! GO AWAY I DON’T WANT YOU HERE, NO ONE WANTS YOU HERE”

Little Seungmin felt each word hit him like an arrow. Anger was terrifying, especially from his father. He could see his eyes shining with rage, the light seeping in from his door glowed brighter in his imagination until it was the fire from his father’s words.

“FILTHY, DIGUSTING. SOULMATE. I DON’T NEED YOU, WISH YOU’D JUST DIE ALREADY.”

The words were spat through the paper thin walls. The monsters were laughing, all laughing together at a little boy who cried silently, his sheets lapping up his tears like starved dogs. Safe, not safe. Not safe here. Behind him, it felt like there was someone behind him. He whimpered and he cried but the dark still laughed at him, mocked him, surrounded him, squeezed his lungs until he couldn’t breathe.

Two years old and he heard the world ‘soulmate’ for the first time.

승민

Four years old and he was walking into his first day of kindergarten. His parents had left him at the doorway without a word. He’d walked through the halls until a passing teacher took pity at the lost look in his eyes. She showed him to his classroom, where he sat in the back corner behind the bookshelf. From there he could see everyone else, but no one could see him.

He watched as parents walked in with their children, hugging and kissing them goodbye. Some kids cried and others were already pulling away from the arms of their parents, eager to explore the classroom filled with bright colors. But all of them had parents to say goodbye to.

Little Seungmin hugged his knees, hooking his chin over them. So many loud voices and curious fingers, he shuddered. It was quiet in his corner. Safe.

A kid’s wail tore him from his thoughts.

“M-m-my lollipop turned b-b-BROOWN.”

The teacher walked over quickly, all hushed tones and soft hands and warm eyes.

“Sweetie that’s your soul vision. You’re lollipop didn’t _turn_ brown, the world just changed color for a little while.”

“B-but I don’t wike the _brown_ lollipops!”

“It’s okay, let’s listen to a song for a few minutes okay? Can you give me your hands? That’s it.”

Comforting. That’s what his teacher sounded like. Seungmin frowned. All adults are supposed to be scary. They don’t care about kids. Why did his teacher act like she cared? 

And the way she said ‘soul vision’... Seungmin remembered that. It’s what his parents always whispered about at night. That word was taboo! His teacher can’t say that! It’s bad. A bad word. Bad bad bad.

He wrapped his arms tighter around himself. Bad. He sniffed. 

He wanted a lollipop too.

승민

Five years old and his world turned brown for the first time. He was sitting at the edge of the playground, in the little sandbox filled with dirt. The one they had planted flowers in and decorated with clay pieces from art class.

It took him a little while to realize it, dirt is always brown. It was the flowers that told him. When the breeze blew through dead petals that were perfectly intact, when the sky was no longer a quiet blue.

He didn’t need to ask his teacher what had happened. He knew. Soul vision. The bad word. Lots of his classmates had had it. The teachers always gave them candy so they didn’t cry. Seungmin didn’t understand. The teachers didn’t look angry or sad. They didn’t avoid the word ‘soulmate.’ Not like his parents.

He didn’t trust it. Everyone said the word so easily. All he could think about were the words of his parents, they said it was a bad thing. Soulmates are bad, soul visions are bad. His teachers just didn’t know. He tried to tell them once, in a quiet voice, his hands twisting nervously behind his back. But they had looked concerned, scared. They wanted him to talk to the nurse. So he lied, he was okay, he was joking. He didn’t wanna go see the nurse. The nurse is scary. Scarier than his classmates.

So he sat in the sandbox alone, playing with the flowers and watching brown clouds float through a brown sky. He watched his classmates throw brown balls by the brown trees. He waited for it to go away. It left after a little bit. Or a long bit. He wasn’t good with time. 

That was fine. It seemed a little annoying. Why did his parents hate it so much? At least it went away.

The flowers were more interesting. Soon he forgot about it. There were dogs in the clouds. They told him they’d be his friends. He liked the dog clouds. By the end of recess he forgot the world went brown. It was such a small thing compared to his new cloud friends.

승민

Six years old and Seungmin was still too young to understand what it meant when his father got out the drill to put a new doorknob on his bedroom door.

“What’s that for?”

“Your door was broken.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“Don’t talk back to your father like that. It was and it’ll be fixed now.”

“But what’s that little nub thingy?”

“A lock.”

“What’s the lock for?”

“For when you get like this, now go sit on your bed until dinner time. I don’t wanna hear a single sound from you.”

승민

Eight years old and he realized how blessed he was to have the lock first. It didn’t sting like his father’s belt.

“You do not address me like that.

I am your father.

I am your FATHER.

You’re just a kid.

Shut up.

You’re so ungrateful.

You never keep well enough alone do you?”

“But-”

“But, BUT?!

DON’T TALK BACK TO ME.

YOU

*SLAP*

DON’T HAVE

*SLAP*

THE RIGHT.”

“But dad it _hurts_ ”

“Good.

It should.

Now shut up and listen to me when I talk to you.

No more of this disrespect in my household.

I am the law, and if you break it, you disrespect me.

I won’t tolerate your mischief and your pretty little fancies, you’re my son and I expect you to ACT like it.

Your teachers don’t know up from down let alone a single bloody fact about soulmates.

In this household, it’s MY opinion that matters

MY words matter.

And I SAY, I say that soulmates are useless.

Good for nothing

Scum of the earth.

Even lower than _you._ ”

“Now. What are soulmates?”

*sniff*

“Don’t cry, that’s _weak_.

_what are soulmates?”_

“... they’re bad, father.”

“And do you have a soulmate?”

“...no, father.”

“And why is that?”

“Because no one could ever love me.”

“Exactly.”

The smirk on his father’s face was one he could never forget. The bruises from the belt lasted for weeks. Whenever they hurt, he was reminded of it.

Nobody could ever love me.

What a true little sentence. In his friendless, loveless, _hopeless_ world. It felt like a revelation. The truest thing he’d ever heard. It had a power behind it.

Nobody could ever love me.

It was absolute. Unquestionable.

승민

Nine years old and he’d mastered the art of crying silently and only at night. Only under the cover of darkness, when his parents were asleep and it was safe. Safe. What a foreign word, yet always circling his thoughts.

He’d mastered the art of not talking back, of listening and bowing to his parent’s orders, of steering clear of his classmates and lying to the teachers and looking okay and accepting it. Accepting everything. He’d mastered the art of following every rule, every guideline. He was the best child, exactly what his parents wanted.

But they still ignored him. And when they didn’t, it was only to hurt him. He’d done everything, but he still wasn’t enough. Because he could never be. And he accepted that.

승민

Ten years old and his parents’ whispered conversations grew more and more urgent. _Money_ was a problem now. Money. Seungmin had barely thought about it, but his parents couldn’t _stop_ thinking about it.

Mortgages and bills and money money money. Lots of words Seungmin didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Adult words.

What he DID know is that one day they stopped. And his father started smiling. And his mother’s shoulders slumped. And he couldn’t help the twist of _fear_ in his gut, hot and striking and _unsettling_. Not safe. Those looks were not safe.

He found out soon enough. What it was.

Or rather, _who_ it was.

Ten years old and he met his little brother for the very first time. Jeongin. It didn’t make sense to him at the time, but it had only taken one look at those wide, innocent eyes. Jeongin was someone who needed protection even more than Seungmin.

Foster system, they’d whispered. Adoption. Subsidies, assistance. Words Seungmin didn’t know, didn’t understand. What he did understand was the lost look in Jeongin’s eyes, the arms that reached for what was denied, the stomach that growled like his.

He didn’t understand. His parents didn’t seem to like Jeongin either, but they had taken him anyways. He didn’t understand, they gave him even less than Seungmin. He didn’t understand, but he cared. So he became the knight in shining armor. 

Ten years old and he learned what it was like to be needed by someone else, to take care of them. Sharing food and clothes and hugging away the pain. His stomach yelling a little louder was fine. Being a blanket colder was fine. He didn’t understand a lot, but he understood the way Jeongin hid behind him and the look in his eyes. Love.

승민

Eleven years old and he realized how accidentally smart he’d been. To not have breathed a word about soul visions in front of his parents. The years of yelling and broken bottles and hate-filled looks, they taught him fearfully to never speak a word. But Jeongin wasn’t there for that.

Jeongin who was like an innocent lamb, untainted by the fear of the world or his father’s belt. Jeongin who didn’t know not to speak so casually of his soul visions in front of their parents. Jeongin who was immediately ripped away from him and shoved into their bedroom. Jeongin who was locked up with his father for hours and hours that day. Jeongin who never was quite the same when he came out. Jeongin who had never told him what happened. Jeongin who never spoke of soulmates again. Jeongin whose pure coat was cut so deep that the blood of what was broken in Seungmin painted his skin clear to see.

Jeongin who he was supposed to protect. Jeongin who he failed, and he never forgot. The way his face changed after that day, and no longer opened widely to the world. The scariest stories are the ones without an ending, without an answer. The deepest fears are the mysteries of bad and worse. Having to guess, to imagine.

Eleven years old and he learned a lesson he already knew trying to forget what he never saw. And he promised to himself that he would take all the mysteries so that Jeongin wouldn’t have to. And he held himself up on broken hands, but he walked with a purpose now and it kept him going.

승민

Twelve years old and he learned of the blessings of the number 19. It meant adulthood. It meant freedom. An exit, an escape, a doorway at the end of the tunnel he ran through every night in his dreams.

Cold. Dark. Sweating. Panting. Burning lungs and burning legs. Feet bloodied and bruised. A broken soul pulled behind him and a broken hand reaching forward. A goal. A reason to keep waking up.

Just a little longer.

Just a little longer.

And he would wait for Jeongin. So they could leave together.

승민

Thirteen years old and he’d long learned how to forget the pain. The physical pain didn’t bother him anymore. He couldn’t feel it. The emotional he thought was a little trickier. But still he learned how to lock it up well.

Hide it. Hide yourself.

Crying is weak. Pathetic.

He read once that tears could be turned into bullets. It was a pretty thought in a broken mind. He would save his for the day he could use them. For now he would focus on Jeongin. And surviving. 

승민

Fourteen years old and he discovered why friends are a luxury. 

_Friends aren’t for everyone._

That’s what he told himself when a classmate approached him. _Befriended him._ Until he’d found out about Seungmin’s poor grades and nonexistent social life. That’s what he told himself when his classmates picked him as an easy target. When they told him his soulmate would hate him. That’s what he told himself to drown out their words, because he heard enough of those messages at home. He didn’t need to listen to hear them. So he repeated it over and over like a mantra. 

Friends aren’t for everyone. 

Friends aren’t for everyone. 

Friends aren’t for everyone. 

It was fine. He’d never had any to begin with. 

It was silly of him to believe he could have any now. 

You open up to people and they stab you when you’re vulnerable, like Tom Riddle’s diary. He was an open book begging for a wound. 

So he closed the covers, and wrapped himself in a boring cover. Everyone judged books by their covers, no matter what they claimed. 

No one looked twice at a plain, boring cover. And he made sure no one would look twice at him.

He decided he preferred that. Solitude. He thought sometimes it felt like loneliness, but that couldn’t be it. He had Jeongin after all.

승민

By fifteen, he had it down to a science. The only science he would ever excel at. It was like a game of whack-a-mole. 

Fear, shove it down. 

Tears, shove it down. 

Anxiety, ignore it. 

Pain, shove it down. 

Loneliness, ignore it. 

Hopelessness, shove it down. There was always 19 and the promises it held.

He was good at walking through the darkness without a light now. He made sure to pull Jeongin along behind him. Made sure the younger slept and ate and studied and had at least one good friend. 

승민

Sixteen and it felt like _he_ was the parent in the house. He wasn’t sure what that made his father and his mother. Maybe just reminders to keep playing his little games of whack-a-mole. Maybe just demons to give him nightmares. What good were the boring happy dreams anyway, he laughed bitterly. They never did anything good for him anyways. 

Maybe they were just lessons to learn. What to be, what not to be. How to stay perfectly in the lines. After 16 years their words all sounded the same, felt the same. Like they ran out of new material. Just writing the same plot in as many variations as they could. Same plot same plot, same monsters and the same sad ending. 

He still read their stories. Their constancy was a grounding point in his mind. An anchor dragging him, holding him in place, stabilizing him? He didn’t bother to define between hurt and health now. 

It was easier to just say yes and keep trudging. 

Keep crawling quietly to 19. 

And taking care of Jeongin. 

Always Jeongin. The one thing he still protected. 

승민

Seventeen and… well nothing special happened that year. Or maybe it did. His memory was fuzzy. He read somewhere that can happen with depression. Ironically, he can remember all the lessons he didn’t understand. But he can’t remember anything else. Just a gray space on the timeline. More darkness amidst the darkness on his path. It was all the same. 

승민

Eighteen and he didn’t feel a change. Still the same aches and pains trying to break the numb feeling inside. Just a few more months. And Jeongin would have his ticket out too. 

He’d used his failures to his success. Had learned how to play apathy like an instrument, so that he could play lies to his parents and have them nodding along. Make them feel like they’re still in power.

Summer classes. Remedial because he was a worthless idiot. They jumped on it. An excuse to shove him out of their faces for three more months. 

Secretly it was the flower shop. A job. Money. He’d grown to hate money over the years. It only fueled greed and malice. It was the only reason Jeongin was there. For the money the government gave his parents to ‘support’ him. What a great laugh Seungmin had when he discovered the real reason they’d adopted him. For the money. He’d laughed for hours, but for some reason it went sideways and suddenly he was laughing in instead of out and his gut felt hollower than hunger had ever made it. 

They took him for the money and treated him like trash for their own benefit. It wasn’t that Seungmin was surprised. He’d given up his own meals to feed Jeongin. Gotten this job to support them when they could walk away legally. Protected him with his own body. A human shield, painted with battle wounds. He never blamed Jeongin for the suffering he endured to protect him. But it gave him a _sick sick_ feeling inside, acid clawing at his throat.

Money was the reason he’d grown numb to the pain. He wasn’t sure if he owed money a thank you or if money owed _him_ an apology for that. But he swallowed his hatred of it and earned some of his own. Because that was the only way to protect Jeongin. 

Nineteen. He almost smiled at the thought. 

Out of the darkness and into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the start of something big

Today was not a good day. The whole day Chan had been on edge, as if he was anticipating some kind of impending doom. He couldn’t sit still, and Changbin had been going crazy over how Chan couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing with nerves. 

“Tell your leg to stop!” Changbin cried in frustration, reaching a hand over to physically press down on Chan’s right leg. 

“Binnie, I would if I could,” Chan sighed, “I’ve been feeling weird all day.”

“Well stop feeling weird,” Changbin said shortly, nudging his glasses up a notch before sticking his nose back into the book he was assigned for class. 

Chan scoffed silently, as if it was ever as easy as deciding to stop feeling anxious. He shut his laptop to look around, leg back to bouncing as spazzy as ever the second Changbin took his hand away. He and Changbin were nestled into a corner of their school’s library at the urging of the younger. Though it was only the first day of classes, they’d already been assigned a load of homework. The younger had made the executive decision for them to both start working today, dragging Chan (complaints and all) out of their apartment. 

Changbin had already gotten through half of his work, but Chan was still stuck on his first assignment. His seminar had wanted them to start brainstorming ideas and themes for their capstone project, but Chan couldn’t come up with anything. After a few minutes of a genuine attempt at focusing, he’d lost himself to the folds of his mind. Except today his mind wasn’t feeling too active, instead it was leaning towards staticky - a channel on the TV that wasn’t working, the ants of his thoughts fighting each other unintelligibly in the background. 

Chan wasn’t proud of the number of times he’d flicked a finger across the trackpad to keep his laptop from shutting off. Somewhere inside of his brain was a small moral compass spinning chaotically off-kilter, debating between shutting off the laptop completely to save battery or keeping it on in hopes that an idea would present itself, riding victoriously out of the ant battle to save the day. At this point, he was just trying to silently convince Changbin that he was indeed being productive or (at worst) thinking very intensely about ideas. In reality, his eyes had glazed over staring into his computer screen. He was caught up in the adrenaline that was playing with the butterflies in his stomach like a puppeteer. Why did he feel like something _big_ was going to happen? Something _bad_.

Nothing remarkable had happened that day that he knew of. He’d woken up to the comforting pitter-pat of rain against his window. He’d used his bright red umbrella on the way to his first class, hand out to cradle the warm drops as they fell from the sky (summer rains were his favorite because the heat of the rain seeped under his skin and curled right up inside of his heart). He’d sat through the basic introductions of his first classes, not needing to pay too much attention because he’d had those two professors before and already knew their class style. He’d had a small feeling of excitement thinking about having another semester with those two professors, as they’d been great at stretching his creativity in the past.

But overall he’d felt held down by an invisible monster, its hand pressing harder and harder upon his chest. His emotions were all gray inside, held back except for an ever-intensifying feeling of fear and dread. But for some reason, he knew instinctively that the fear had nothing to do with his own life. Nothing had happened to Chan to warrant a Bad Thing. No… it was someone else that the Bad Thing would happen to. That was even more worrying to Chan. If it was only himself that he needed to look out for, he could easily watch for things on the horizon that could spell trouble. But if it’s someone else… who would it be? Chan can’t watch out for every person he comes across. And worse, he might not ever know if the Bad Thing _does_ happen. 

Chan wasn’t one to randomly stress about the life of an unknown person. But it was like his heart was a separate voice whispering in his ear “this _will_ impact you.” Which is… _creepy_ and a bit unsettling if Chan thought hard about it, but it made sense in a completely nonsensical way. Chan’s heart was like that, he thought. Sometimes it whispered something different than the rest of him, and he’d made a note to listen after its whispers had started coming true. 

방찬

The sound of Changbin’s book snapping shut brought Chan back to the present. He flinched ever so slightly. 

“Are you ready to head back, hyung?” Changbin asked gruffly, his voice rubbing the silence raw like sandpaper. Chan almost wanted to wince a second time, but he caught himself before his heightened emotions got the best of him.

“Um, yeah,” Chan replied haltingly, moving to slip his laptop into his backpack as the thwacks, thumps, zips, and crinkles of Changbin packing up assaulted his ears. If he tilted his head a little to the left and stared at the blank wall at the other side of the library, Chan could almost imagine how the sounds could become a rap track. _Zzzip, snap, thump-thump, thwack. Crinkle. Zzzip, snap, thump, thwa-_

“Chan-hyung?”

Oh, right. Packing up. Chan did so, standing up as if he’d been waiting on Changbin the whole time. Other than a quick roll of his eyes, the younger took his odd behavior in stride. Changbin was quite used to Chan snapping in and out of their present reality. 

The rain greeted Chan as he stepped outside, and a small smile settled like a thin blanket on top of the ant battle in his mind. He held out a hand, _plop_. Changbin was waiting a few steps ahead with his big umbrella, tilted a bit up and to the side in the universal message of “I’m waiting for you to get under here too.” Chan obliged quietly, taking the umbrella from Changbin’s hand. They walked back in comfortable silence. Chan was busy marking the songs of nature. Changbin was most likely thinking about the track he’d started last Thursday. It was another hip-hop track. Changbin had refused to disclose the lyrics, but Chan could see the way his fingers were tapping out the beat against his jacket sleeve.

He lost himself to the loud sounds of summer and the shouts of students greeting each other again after the break. It felt important to him in that moment, the mundane. Chan could feel how his senses were etching a picture into a tiny fold in his mind. For some reason, he knew this would be a moment he’d look back on years in the future. Even though nothing important was happening… it felt like the start of something anyways.

He went to bed that night with the firm feeling that a page had been turned in his life. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, he only hoped he could fill the next page with memories worth keeping. 

Changbin would laugh if he could hear Chan’s thoughts then. Summer rains always made him sentimental. By the next day he’d forgotten to worry about the Bad Thing. But the Bad Thing didn’t forget to happen.

방찬

Chan woke from dark dreams running from ribbons that sliced his skin. He sucked in a breath of reality, eyes still closed, trying to forget the feelings that had felt so real. He curled up in bed, turning to the side. He hated when his mind turned against him, betraying him in his safe space.

Though the ribbons slowly slipped from his mind, the feeling of something being terribly wrong persisted. Chan opened his eyes and his breath caught. Immediately he was sitting up in bed, eyes absorbing as much of his surroundings as they could. He could feel the tears welling already from the shock and the _relief_.

His room, it was brown. It’s… it was his-

“ _Soul vision_ ,” Chan’s voice cracked over the words. His soulmate was _alive._ The relief was astounding, like the ocean thundering in his ears, waves crashing and crumbling onto his heart. His soulmate is _alive_.

But something… something rose up from underneath, like a crab wiggling out of the sand underneath his feet. _Snap_. He looked down to see a claw pinching at his ankle. Reality sunk its claws into him.

This was the first time he’d gotten soul vision in years. Either something really great happened to his soulmate… or something was _very wrong_. 

Suddenly the foreboding from the other day made sense. The Bad Thing had happened, and it had happened to his soulmate.

Chan shivered in his bed, losing himself the sun peeking through the blinds. As much as he wished he could photograph that moment, preserve his soul vision, he knew it couldn’t mean anything good. Somewhere out there in the world was his soulmate, someone who didn’t cry often- no. Never cried. Someone who never cried, except now they are. They wouldn’t just break over anything, it _had_ to be monumental. It had to be disastrous.

Somewhere out there was his soulmate, and it sent a searing kind of fire through his heart to know. It should have been a comforting warmth, a small flame, but instead it licked at his soul greedily until the edges started charring.

Somewhere out there in the world is his soulmate, suffering. And Chan could do nothing but wipe his tears and get dressed as if it were any other day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made a few edits in the previous chapter because i had forgotten the S. Korean academic school year and age of majority are different, but it shouldn't affect your reading - everything will be explained when it becomes relevant.  
> hope you're having a good day!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freedom (it all falls apart)

Seungmin should have known better than to let his guard down. The start of his classes released a tension in the house he didn’t know had been building. Suddenly he had an excuse to be out of the house for half of the day; it felt like a _gift_. 

It was getting harder and harder to keep his shields up. In his classes he could pretend he was just a normal student; it was like getting a taste of freedom from behind bars. And more: his birthday was coming. Soon he’d be 19, he could leave and take Jeongin with him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it: freedom. It entranced his mind, colored his every thought. It made him forget, it made him feel like he had power. That’s where it all went wrong.

승민

Seungmin’s poetry class ends an hour before Jeongin’s school lets out. That means he has time to do homework or just walk around and enjoy the short-lived freedom from his parents. Today, he decided to start towards Jeongin’s school a bit early; he walked slow to take in the clouds above him. He didn’t get the chance to stop and appreciate nature as much as he wanted. The best Seungmin usually got was watching the sky from his bedroom window whenever he was hiding or locked up. 

Today the clouds were soft and fluffy, like caterpillars crawling across the bright blue sky. It was so beautiful Seungmin was inclined to doubt its legitimacy. How can such beautiful things exist in the same world as his own cruel reality.

승민

Jeongin was laughing with Eric when Seungmin rounded the corner to his high school. His smile shone brighter than the sun when he laughed like that. Seungmin took a moment to admire how pure emotion looked on his brother’s face before he called out to him.

“Innie!” He yelled, waving and smiling. Jeongin waved back, turning back to Eric to give him a hug goodbye. He wrapped his hands around his backpack straps and bounced happily over to Seungmin.

“Hyung!” he called brightly, “how was your day?”

“It was good,” Seungmin smiled, ruffling Jeongin’s hair fondly, “I think I’ll like my poetry class the most… how was your day? What were you and Eric talking about?”

“Well you know Eric is a huge Pokémon fan, right hyung?” Jeongin started. Seungmin nodded for him to continue. 

“Well someone gave him a stuffed Geodude today! They left it on his desk, but he doesn’t know who it’s from! They left a note with it, and Eric won’t let me know what it is,” Jeongin whined, smirking a second later, “but he kept blushing whenever I brought it up, so I think it’s from a secret _admirer_. How cool is that!”

Seungmin laughed, listening to Jeongin’s voice as he described how Eric had decided that the best way to find this ‘secret admirer’ was to act like Geodude all day. He had walked around with Hulk arms, brow furrowed. The teachers weren’t too pleased. Jeongin’s excited story-telling almost made Seungmin forget where they were walking to. It felt like they were just walking home, and not walking back to _that house._

That’s why Jeongin was a gift, Seungmin thought. _He makes me forget about reality, just for a little while. I can pretend we have a normal life. He gives me that._

“Hyung! Hyung, are you listening,” came Jeongin’s voice, a pout forming on his face as Seungmin watched.

“Of course Innie,” Seungmin replied easily, “I hope Eric finds this secret admirer, but maybe they don’t want to be found. I don’t think they’d want the whole school to know at least, and Eric’s actions probably gained a lot of attention. It’s no wonder they didn’t reveal themselves.”

Jeongin nodded in agreement.

“Who do you think it is?” Seungmin asked him, just to keep him talking. He wanted to enjoy as much of Jeongin’s happiness as he could.

승민

Before he knew it, they were already in front of their house. Jeongin’s voice petered out, intimidated by the imposing figure of the house in front of them. Seungmin ruffled his hair one last time before he reached for the door knob. 

As the door swung open, Seungmin was struck by yelling and smashing. He took a cautious step inside, gesturing behind him for Jeongin to stay outside.

His mother was home. She was in the living room, ripping papers and yelling at the TV. There was no reason for her to be upset… the bills weren’t due for another week and Seungmin had been careful to be extra obedient that week. The only thing that made her that upset was…

No. He stepped back quickly, turning to face Jeongin.

“Innie, let’s go to the park today,” he said quietly, trying to keep his voice from falling into fear.

“Hyung?” Jeongin asked in confusion.

“It’s a beautiful day, don’t you think?” Seungmin asked desperately, ushering Jeongin to start walking down the driveway. He had to get Jeongin away, to the park. It’s where Seungmin always took him when it wasn’t safe at home.

As he closed the door behind him, he forgot to twist the knob. He froze at the sound of the door latch clicking into place. Ahead of him, Jeongin turned from where he had been walking, looking back in confusion. He didn’t understand the dread on Seungmin’s face. Seungmin did.

It had fallen silent inside of the house. She had heard. 

“Who was that?!” she called from inside. He winced. Jeongin took a step towards him.

“Jeongin, I need you to go to the park now,” Seungmin whispered firmly. His eyes left no room for argument.

“Promise you’ll come,” Jeongin insisted, eyes wide and pleading.

“Was it you, Seungmin?” came his mother’s voice.

Seungmin closed his eyes.

“I promise,” he vowed, “go Innie, I’ll be okay.”

Jeongin accepted his words silently, walking away, down the driveway. Seungmin gave himself half a second to feel guilty for lying. Footsteps were approaching him from behind as he watched Jeongin leave.

He braced himself.

승민

The door swings open behind him just as Jeongin rounds the corner, and Seungmin takes the quiet victory that Jeongin will be safe. He twists to meet the snarling face of his mother, unbridled rage painting her face. She was almost growling with anger. 

Seungmin knows immediately that it’s different this time. She never snaps emotionally after soul visions. She always goes cold; it’s his father that gets angry. This time is different.

“Seungmin” she croons, and Seungmin knows deep in his gut that he won’t be walking out alive.

She grips his arm tightly, yanking him into the house. The door is slammed behind him.

She starts questioning him on his classes. How have they been, how is his first week going. All in the most sickly sweet voice. He knows better than to trust it. 

Seungmin tries so hard to stay quiet and submissive. He tries so hard to deflect. To tell her what she wants to hear. But he makes a mistake.

“i-intro to poetry,” he’s stammering, and she has him.

“ _Poetry?_ ” she sneers, “what a _useless_ class, _why are we paying for that?_ ”

“It’s to fill my English requirement,” Seungmin pleads, desperately trying to appease her. He can see the rage dripping back into her eyes.

“What will you ever do with _poetry_?!” she yells, swiping her arm through the air. Seungmin steps back quickly in self-preservation.

She goes ballistic. Kicking the couch, the chair. Spitting with anger.

 _You shouldn’t be taking such useless classes. You should be taking business. Economics. So you can get a job._ A job.

Seungmin snorts. Later he pinpoints this as the moment it all fell apart. But in the moment, it wasn’t even a conscious decision.

“Well I already have a-” he stops short. She can’t hear about his summer job. She can’t know that he’s been hiding mo-

She catches him. She _catches him_.

“What?” she asks, her voice so dangerously calm Seungmin almost shivers in fear.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, shrinking into himself.

“Oh _no it’s not_ ,” she laughs mockingly, her voice changing from rage to authoritative, “what were you going to say?”

Seungmin stays silent, a last-resort, a plea for mercy.

“What were you going to _say_ ,” she snarls, “were you about to say you have a _JOB? A job you never told me about? Have you been making money secretly? Behind our BACKS? When we FEED you? CLOTHE you? Give you SHELTER?”_

“Shelter from _what_ ,” Seungmin breaks, and he can feel it. He can feel the dam that crumbled inside of him. It feels so dangerous, the adrenaline that’s rushing out like a tidal wave. Dangerous but… powerful. Thrilling.

“The only shelter I ever needed was from _you_ ,” he continues viciously, “you don’t feed me, you don’t clothe me. I am _starved, I am beaten, I am neglected, I am rejected. You aren’t a mother. You’re a prison warden.”_

“I’m a _WHAT now?”_

Seungmin laughs, a short sound of disbelief and fear, the sound of someone who has finally stood up, finally has the ground beneath their feet after years of having their back pressed into the dirt.

“This is my prison, _mother_. This is my nightmare.”

“Then _leave_ ,” she sneers, thinking she has him, “if you hate it here then _leave_ . But you can’t, you need us. You need our _money_.”

Seungmin _bristles_ . A small voice in his mind is whispering to stop now, to shut up. Maybe he can go back, fix it all. He can’t make it on his own. But the rest of him… the rest of him is high on the fear that’s shooting through his veins. It’s singing fight songs, it’s screaming for blood, it’s chanting for _justice._

“You think I need your _money_?” Seungmin whispers, taking a step back to stand taller.

“I don’t need anything from you. I- I don’t need you.”

“You DO!” she screams, anger slashing hard angles across her face.

“NO!” Seungmin says, yelling for the first time since he was a child.

“No,” he repeats, quieter this time, as if convincing himself, “I’m leaving. You never have to feed me, clothe me, _pay for me_ again. I don’t have to be your little _burden_ ever again. You don’t have to be my mother. I’m leaving.”

He starts walking backwards, the path up the stairs to his bedroom memorized from years of sneaking around. His mothe- no. The woman in front of him is frozen in shock. He takes the chance to dash upstairs to grab the last of his belongings. 

“COME BACK DOWN HERE!”

He speeds up, shoving things into his backpack. Only what he needs most. The money hidden under his mattress. His notes, his homework. Socks. Jacket. Underwear. Toiletries.

“It’s like going on vacation,” he whispers to himself. _I’ve never been on vacation before_.

In a moment of absurdity, a smile finds its way onto his face. Vacation. It sounds nice.

Yelling brings him back.

“YOUR FATHER WILL BE HOME SOON, DON’T THINK YOU WON’T BE PUNISHED FOR THIS!”

Urgency. Flee. Flee. Flee. Flee. He has everything, right? He pats his pockets, looks at his backpack. _His camera._ He runs, feet scrambling to his closet, shoving a hand underneath the mess to find the small box in the corner that’s beginning to buckle from old age. Almost reverently, he pulls it out, blowing the imaginary dust off of it. Time slows down. He can breathe again.

He cracks the lid open, slipping a hand under the old camera to settle it into his backpack _carefully_. Footsteps. She’s coming.

 _Zip._ Arm. Arm. Shoulders. Door.

_WAIT._

Jeongin.

He curses in his mind. _Jeongin_. The footsteps are coming faster and closer, he only has so much time. He slips into Jeongin’s room, closing the door and locking it behind him.

He looks around in desperation. What would Jeongin need.

 _Slam_. The door shakes in its hinges. She’s pounding on it with her fists.

“OPEN UP”

Tires screech. He’s back. Seungmin’s eyes widen in hysteria. He doesn’t have _time_. He doesn’t have time for this. Out. He needs to get out.

The door shakes harder under her assault. _Out. Fast._ Seungmin panics. He grabs whatever clothes he sees. There’s a bag hanging off the bed. He snatches it. Shove it in, shove it all in. No no no. He can hear the front door opening and slamming again. 

_No._

He snaps his head around, scanning the room one last time. Blanket. Jeongin’s blanket. The only thing he brought with him. Seungmin rips it from the bed. The corner. Photo. He darts over, falling onto his knees in his rush. The only photo they have of each other. He slips it into the pocket of his jeans.

Okay. He has everything. Everything he can take. Backpack. Bag slung over one arm. But.

 _Slam, rattle._ How to escape. He eyes the door like a caged dog. A wild animal. At this point he isn’t sure if that’s a metaphor or just reality. He _feels_ like a caged animal. A rabid dog, foaming at the mouth, a crazed look in his eyes. 

Four fists crash against the last shield he has left. It’s too late, he’s already here, yelling insults that intertwine with hers. Thorny vines creeping their way under the door, around the door, through the door, into him, into his soul, grabbing his heart, _squeezing_. He can’t think. He can’t think. 

No. 

_Crunch._ Time froze. Sound froze. Seungmin froze. The door, the _door_.

He’d punched his way through _the DOOR_ . His hand retreats, pulling back to punch again. If he clears a hole, _if he clears a hole_. He could get through. He’ll get through. Not safe. Not safe.

Get out.

Seungmin whirls around, heart in his _throat. He wants to throw it up_ . Window. _Window WINDOW. Window._

Okay he can do this. Second floor. Window. His fingers fumble at the lock. Work, work, _work._ _OPEN!_

 _Click_. The lock turns. Seungmin doesn’t even look back, he shoves the window open as hard as he can. It wails in protest, screeching the way Seungmin is screeching in his mind.

He doesn’t even look, he just shoves his arms through, right leg through, left… leg… through… _push._

He falls. Their yelling follows him. He doesn’t look back. 

_Branches. Scratching his skin. Leaves. Dirt._ Warm dirt. Under his hands. He’d never loved dirt more than in that moment. Because it will be the last time he ever feels that dirt. Stand. Stand. _Stand._

His legs protest, but he doesn’t _care. Get out. Run._ His legs wobble dangerously, precariously. He falls, but he doesn’t care. He trips, but he doesn’t care. He’s bleeding, but he doesn’t care. Bag. Backpack. He has them. He has it all. He has it _all_ . He’s up, he’s _running._ He’s escaping.

He’s free.

Running. Legs pounding against the concrete. He doesn’t care how crazy he looks, how ungraceful and unheroic his escape was, he doesn’t care. He’s _free_. They’re free. Free. Free. It tastes new on his tongue. He’d never even dared to whisper it to himself, not even on the loneliest nights, not even on the most hope-filled days. He whispers it now, as his breath is punched out of him by each hit of his feet against the sidewalk.

Running to the park, he gives himself the privilege to whisper it just once to himself.

“ _Free_.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> paradise or hell

“You can use my toothbrush Innie,” Seungmin offered, “I’m sorry I forgot yours.”

They were standing by one of the water fountains in the public park. The birds were chirping loud greetings to the rising sun, whose rays were piercing quick and bright through the fading gray blanket of night. 

“It’s fine hyung,” Jeongin smiled easily, “I’m not the germ freak that you are.”

Seungmin gave a strained smile at the younger’s teasing remark. Normally he’d scowl and poke Jeongin in annoyance, griping in self-defence. Today he was too distracted, his mind already whirring despite the early hour, sifting through any plan he could think of. 

Jeongin seemed to notice Seungmin wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He grabbed the toothpaste and squeezed it onto the brush, turning on the fountain for a second to get the brush wet. After a minute brushing, he rinsed his mouth in the fountain and passed the brush along to Seungmin.

As Seungmin brushed his teeth over the fountain, he lost himself to his thoughts. What were they going to do now? Live in the park? How were they going to feed themselves after his money ran out? He only had so much… What about shelter? A comfortable place to sleep? Blankets when it started getting colder? How would they clean their clothes?

Anxiety settled deep in his gut, winding and wrapping around itself like a ball of rubber bands. Each new, small question wrapped around the rest until it became a dense ball of weight Seungmin had to carry all day.

“Hyung?” Jeongin questioned softly.

Seungmin hummed, breaking away from his thoughts to see that he had brushed so long that the toothpaste had foamed up and fallen past his lips. He made a small noise of sheepishness, ducking to clean himself up under the fountain’s small stream of water. Jeongin’s hand fell to Seungmin’s shoulder, a weight of reassurance instead of anxiety.

“We’ll be okay hyung,” Jeongin whispered, his usually cheerful voice firm and serious.

“Yeah,” Seungmin breathed, a grim look on his face, “we’ll be okay.”

승민

“Jeongin why don’t you sleep over at Eric’s tonight?”

Jeongin gasped, eyes lighting up in excitement, “really hyung!?”

Seungmin chuckled fondly, “You can walk to school with him in the morning, okay? So just go straight home with Eric and don’t you worry about me.”

He patted Jeongin on the head, fiddling with a zipper on his backpack before pushing him gently towards the sidewalk. Jeongin smiled wide and waved goodbye as he began walking to school.

Seungmin stood and watched from beside the park bench until Jeongin’s body was nothing but a small figure in the distance. Seungmin sighed heavily before sinking onto the bench, slipping his bags off his shoulders and letting them land heavily beside him.

Around him the sunlight was turning softly ambient. Cars were whizzing by on the road, birds chirping, wind blowing carelessly past his face. The clouds were transitioning from oranges and pinks to greys and whites, tufts of torn cotton strewn across the sky. 

It looked like a perfect summer’s day.

Seungmin huffed a quiet groan, his brow screwing up in stress. He couldn’t just sit here and admire the day. He still had class… responsibilities. He needed to take stock of the situation.

_Take stock… of the situation Seungmin_ , he told himself, _just… let’s just see what you have._

He grabbed his backpack, tugging it into his lap and unzipping it. A sock tumbled out and landed on his shoe, but he made no move to pick it up. It felt so useless considering how little he had anyways, and he let himself wallow in that feeling of helplessness for a minute before forcing himself to bend down, snatch the sock off the ground, and set it carefully beside him. 

_You don’t have room for a pity-party_.

He pulled the rest of his clothes out of the top; socks, three shirts, two pairs of shorts, a couple pairs of underwear at the bottom… He sighed. It’s not like he had a big wardrobe to begin with. But it’s not even a week’s worth of clothing now and he had no way to wash any of it.

Under his clothes were the rest of his school supplies: a couple notebooks, a folder for paper, his political science textbook, and a pencil bag. He rolled his eyes and stuffed his clothes back inside, grabbing that one rebel sock and pushing it down to the depths.

He dropped his backpack roughly beside his feet, making sure to grab Jeongin’s bag much more carefully. As he tugged open the drawstring bag, he was greeted with his camera box first. He’d moved it overnight so he wouldn’t have to take it to school with him and because Jeongin’s bag had more clothes and the blanket to keep it safe.

Seungmin cradled the box gently between his hands as he took it out. He couldn’t resist taking off the top to look at his camera again, losing himself to memories.

승민

_A dusty room that smelled like dead roses, a TV buzzing in the background, an old lady’s leather hands that brushed carefully against metal edges, as if touch could imprint a memory and pass it on when she gripped his hands tightly._

_“Take it.” Faded words folded over old lips through the dusty air._

_He had blinked in wonder, big eyes observing a precious treasure, hands reaching cautious but eager to take that new thing into his own possession._

_After that day, he would fold himself on hands and knees, crawl under his bed, pull out that box every day without fail. Eyes gleaming for a secret thing, something of his own. He’d smuggle it under his shirt to her house, tiptoeing down the steps and out the side door that didn’t squeak when he closed it._

_He’d spend an hour at her house as she passed along golden knowledge that poured light into his world. She taught him how to use it, how to adjust it, how to clean it and care for it better than himself, how to refill the film, how to develop the pictures in the bedroom she had turned into a darkroom._

_She’d taught him how to look for what others would miss, how to capture what he didn’t want to let go, how to turn a piece of his hell into something meaningful._

_And then she died. And he had tiptoed over to her house and looked for her, but her door was locked and her blinds drawn. And he had been left alone, no matter how many times he crept over to her house to trace the ridges in the siding, peel the gray paint as it cracked, pluck the leaves off the weeds as the lawn became overgrown. She never came back._

_He could still feel her spirit every time he pulled out his camera. Every time he pointed it at something, clicked the shutter. But he could never turn that film to photograph after that; her darkroom was locked away, emptied, gutted, and repainted and turned into a dayroom. He’d seen it once through the window, all light and bright in there, like a twisted paradise. When he thought of the sheer white curtains with the yellow bees embroidered on it that framed that dayroom, he felt queasy in his stomach. They felt like a stark warning: this is not your world anymore. Turn back._

Turn back.

승민

Seungmin almost considered taking a photo of the day unfurling before him, but he left his camera in its box. He’d run out of film a long time ago. There was no point now, like shooting an imaginary basketball through a hoop just to hear the silent cheers of a ghost audience. There was no point going through the motions when the magic of it had been stolen away.

He settled the lid back on the box softly, letting gravity pull it down. The rest of Jeongin’s bag was filled with clothes and his blanket. Again it was the same, a few pairs of things but nothing to last more than a week without washing. Seungmin sighed, long and slow. He could feel the anxiety stacking and tumbling on the edges of his mind like an impending storm, but he held it back. 

_I can’t think about this right now_.

They were homeless now. It sent a shiver down his spine, wrapped another rubber band around the ball in his stomach. They had clothes, toothpaste, their school books, and each other. Seungmin had his camera and two hundred dollars; Jeongin had his blanket and their picture. But they needed so much. They needed to wash their clothes and their hands, eat food, use the bathroom, shower, keep cool for now, stay warm in a few months… 

Those two hundred dollars would barely last them food for a couple weeks, a month maybe if they ate less. They could use the public restrooms by the park, in the library, but only for so long. No one’s going to welcome them once they’ve gone a week or two without showering. And where could they shower… 

And where would they _stay?_ The park wasn’t safe. It gave no protection from weather, animals, or other people. They couldn’t just… Jeongin can’t sleep in a _park._ Jeongin can’t sleep in a park. Seungmin needed to- He just- Seungmin needed-

He needed _answers._ And he had _none_ and he _hated it._ It was terrifying. He was barely a man, barely a _human being_ and now-

_Now I’ve got to keep two people alive_ , Seungmin thought grimly, _both of us._

The blaring of a car’s horn reminded him of his surroundings. He looked up to find the sun hanging in the sky, already climbing its daily ladder. What time was it-

Seungmin looked around for a second, as if a clock would appear before him. He glanced at his wrist, scoffing at himself. He didn’t even have a _watch_ let alone a phone. How was he going to- 

He breathed in, pushing back the impending mindstorm. He ought to just walk to campus now, better early than late for his communications class. 

He looked at the bags beside him. Better just take them both. He couldn’t leave Jeongin’s bag here… wait. It has his blanket. Seungmin sighed… he’d have to give it to Jeongin before he went home with Eric. Jeongin couldn’t sleep without it. 

_That’s about how this day is going,_ Seungmin thought, _you’re homeless, and you’ve already forgotten about Jeongin’s blanket before the sun’s barely risen. At least don’t be late for class._

Maybe he could dash to Jeongin’s school between his two classes. He had about an hour; if he walked fast, he could make it. He shouldered his backpack, clutching Jeongin’s bag between his arms like a shield against the day.

_Just start with class._ Communications class. Taking notes, being a student, paying attention. Things he could do. As he walked to campus he tried to solidify a blue sky in his mind, but it kept flickering back to storm clouds like a glitching simulation. Paradise- hell- paradise- hell- blue skies- storm- blue skies- storm. Pick one, pick one, pick one. Paradise, hell, paradise, hell.

The cars chirped, the birds honked, the wind giggled, the children gusted past on the sidewalk, the cement rolled underneath him, pulling him forward as it was pushed behind him. 

_Turn back_ , his mind whispered, _this is not your paradise._

He kept walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ended up being a bit of a filler chapter as i decided to split it into two last minute
> 
> also! i'll be introducing some more characters in a few chapters (!) and have been toying with the idea of having some chapters from their points of view. pLEASE leave me a comment telling me 1) if you'd want that at all and 2) if you WOULD like that, would you want me to keep it to 1 or 2 other POVs (Seungmin and Chan will still be the main characters of course!) or if you're fine with me adding some chapters for more than 1 or 2 of the side characters (since i'm planning on having all 8 skz members + woojin in the story). 
> 
> please don't get stressed about leaving me a comment ;-; i won't be offended whether you say "yes i'm okay with lots of different POVs!" or "no i don't want any more POVs!"
> 
> as someone who tends to ghost-read herself,, i can't judge anyone who does just the same slkjdflksksk but seriously even if you comment a period and nOTHING else, i will be happy to have your comment ^^


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